


Mirror Image

by sweetsinnerchild



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2019-09-06 10:20:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16830700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetsinnerchild/pseuds/sweetsinnerchild
Summary: Hey, hey. Let’s play spot the difference.…why? So I can fix them, of course.





	Mirror Image

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from tumblr as of the impending nsfw cleansing.

He’s sitting in front of you, bound tight to a chair and eyes sockets sharp and narrow. You want to reach out and touch him, because his colours are all wrong even when you’ve put him in his clothes, and maybe if you hold him enough he’ll remember that his colours aren’t the muted blue of echo flowers whispering despair and depression back and forth in an endless dialogue. They’re red, they’re supposed to be red, and your hands clench. 

“buddy,” he says, “i’m not your sans.“ 

And you want to laugh, so you do, because how could he not be Sans with Sans’ voice and Sans’ face and the Sans-ish expression of defiance, the very one that your brother does back when he thought he could speak back to you. All these and more tells you that this is Sans, and the idiot thought he could lie to you by just using his words? To think you’d taught him better. 

“YOUR SKILL IN DISGUISE FAILS YOU,” you tell him. “CHANGING THE COLOUR OF YOUR MAGIC IS USELESS IF YOU DON’T PUT IN THE EFFORT TO CHANGE HOW YOU LOOK." 

That’s your brother, lazy as always, and that’s why he’ll never be able to hide from you even if he tries to. You reach out, brushing a thumb over his perfect teeth, straight and unsharpened, right where his golden fang was supposed to be. 

“AND WHAT’S UP WITH THIS NEW IMAGE,” you lecture, pressing down on the fake tooth, and he winces. You frown. “YOU LOOK… NON-THREATENING. ARE YOU TRYING TO LOOK LIKE AN EASY TARGET?" 

“i’m not trying to look like anything,” he says, jerking his head away. “look, pal -" 

“BOSS,” you remind him. 

“work with me here,” he snaps, and you would slap him except you want to see how long he’ll let this charade go on, how long he thinks he can play you. A fool’s errand - but that was what your brother was. A fool. “i don’t know how you did it, but i’m guessing you found the machine down in the basement, and hopped over to my timeline, and took me from there. i’m telling you, i’m not _your_ sans." 

“BUT YOU ARE,” you say, irritated. “WHY DO YOU ALWAYS STICK TO THE SAME STORY?” 

“because it’s the truth,” your brother lies. 

“ANY SANE MONSTER WOULDN’T BELIEVE YOU. TIMELINES? WHO THE FUCK WOULD BELIEVE THAT,” and this is the first time he stares at you, shocked. “THAT MACHINE TELLS ME WHERE YOU RUN OFF TO EVERY TIME YOU PULL ONE OF YOUR DISAPPEARING ACTS. SOMETHING YOU MADE THAT IS USEFUL FOR ONCE." 

You sigh, dragging your hand across your face. “THIS IS GETTING TIRING,” you tell your brother. “YOUR ANTICS ARE GETTING OUT OF HAND, SO I HAVE TO KEEP YOU HERE." 

“keep me here?” your brother repeats, incredulous. You don’t know why he’s so shocked, you’ve put him in solitary confinement before. He’s always been more tractable once you let him out. “i’m telling you, i’m not your sans!" 

“AND I’M TELLING YOU I DON’T BELIEVE YOU." 

“you’re deluded,” and your brother laughs, as if he wants everything to be a bad joke and yes, yes, you’ve heard it before. Every word he speaks and every action he takes only assures you that this is your brother - even if he’s grown a spine for once. 

You’d take pleasure in ripping it out again. 

“i don’t know where your sans is,” he is saying, “but you’re not going to find him by keeping me here." 

God, how stupid can your brother be? “DO YOU TAKE ME AS AN IDIOT? IF YOU ARE HERE, THEN YOU’RE ALWAYS HERE." 

“Pap-" 

“BOSS,” you shout, standing up, “DID YOUR LITTLE ESCAPADE CAUSE YOU TO LOSE YOUR MEMORIES? DID CHANGING YOUR COLOUR MAKE YOU AN AMNESIAC?” 

“you can’t change the colour of your soul,” your brother says, still stupidly defiant, still pretending at keeping his composure, and you scoff in his face because clearly he did. You know how to change it back - there’s only one way to drench a soul in this violent shade of red, and that is to inflict a violation upon it. All you need to do is change it back. 

“and i can’t forget memories i never had,” he adds, almost gently. “papyrus.”

He’s missing the crack on his skull, his unblemished skull. 

(Something nags at you. You ruthlessly stamp it down.) 

“PERHAPS,” you say, and watch something like hope rise in his eyes. “PERHAPS YOU ARE RIGHT.“ 

“pap,” he says, relief seeping into his voice. 

“PERHAPS YOU DO HAVE AMNESIA. EVERY TIME YOU RUN OFF, YOU ALWAYS COME BACK WITH AMNESIA.” You turn away, and ignore how his hopes fall and dash themselves against the rocks of your statement. “THAT ONLY MEANS THAT I HAVE TO REMIND YOU." 

“ **let me go**." 

“WE WILL START BY REMINDING YOU OF PROPER APPEARANCE." 

“ **Papyrus**.” A blaster materialises in the room, and the telltale whine of its charging fills the air, and your brother glares at you. “ **L e t m e g o.** " 

You step in front of the blaster, right in its destructive way. You wait. 

(That’s your brother, ever so weak, even though you push and push and push, he never pushes back, not even when you insult him, when you hit him, when you hold him down and fuck him. 

He will never push back.) 

The blaster slowly powers down. It disintegrates mid-air, falling to the ground like snow, and dissipates before it touches the ground. 

“I THOUGHT NOT,” you say, because this has happened so many times before, and every time you know how it ends. You reach for his smile again, his too-harmless smile, for that one offending non-golden tooth. He lets you, as he should. 

“LET’S START WITH YOUR SMILE." 


End file.
